


The Silent Rebel

by Kafen



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, F/M, Joffrey is an ass, Romance, Secret Relationship, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, but we knew that
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-07
Updated: 2017-10-10
Packaged: 2018-10-16 03:58:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10563225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kafen/pseuds/Kafen
Summary: Sansa Stark doesn't know how it came to be like this. How had she become responsible for the survival of Stark Enterprises? It was in Lannister hands now anyway. But she had to stay to pay her father's debt and Bran's growing medical bills. If she didn't keep smiling at her cruel financé they'd cut off her income that Winterfell relied on.So she smiles and does what they want. She can rebel a different way.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone! Here's a mini-playlist I put together as inspiration for this chapter if anyone wants to check it out:
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLUEbEVTSnJ5CN2k3-HV8B8teeRxJrDhdh

She wasn’t convinced that she was speaking. It was possible that she could feel her mouth move, and hear some sort of noise that sounded like her voice, but Sansa still wasn’t sold. Her body was moving now, down from the stage and away from the podium, closer to where Cersei stood, applauding with the rest of them at the announcement of the merger between Stark Enterprises and Lannister Corp. 

“Very good, Little Dove.” She crooned into her ear. “I’m so glad you had the good sense to do what is best for the company.”

“Of course, Cersei.” She heard her voice again. “What my father did was disgraceful and I will do whatever it take to bring the good name back to Stark Enterprises.”

“Yes you will.” Cersei’s hand snuck around Sansa’s back and ushered her closer to where Joffrey was standing. “Now go make sure someone gets some good pictures of you and your fiancé.”

Sansa sucked a breath in sharply and checked to make sure her smile was still fastened on tightly before she strode to circle of people that encompassed the love of her life. 

“Sansa!” He exclaimed as he opened his claws to embrace her. They were like a wiry cage as he whispered in her ear. “Black looks terrible on you, you know?”

She barely had time to whisper an excuse about his mother insisting before he swung her around to the nearest camera and someone snapped a picture. Cersei had personally ensured Sansa had a suitable black dress for the occasion. It would be a scandal if she didn’t make some sort of public acknowledgement of her mourning. Sansa was the face of the corporation now, the thing that made it seem relatable, investable. She was the one to ensure everyone that Stark Enterprises was still a company they could trust, that nothing was amiss. 

But Sansa knew the truth. She didn’t even need her business classes to figure out that this was a hostile takeover, that her brother was being outmaneuvered trying to run it from Canada. They should have never opened up down here, they should have never tried to move the business or ‘take it to the next level’ as Robert had excitedly said to her father when he came up to Winterfell two years prior. She remembered how she used to gush over boys with Jeyne and complain about how her parents never let her do anything, the memories leaving an ache in the hole where her heart used to be. 

She remained here, Joffrey’s thin fingers digging into her side, listening to men discussing stocks and other companies. Occasionally her head nodded along with Joffrey’s and she wondered how she could have been so foolish to have ever been enchanted with his gifts and kisses. He couldn’t like her all that much and Sansa couldn’t understand why he would want to be with her. But Cersei always made it perfectly clear that any issues with their relationship would drastically hurt the stocks and everything her father and her family had worked to built would be ruined.

Sansa wasn’t convinced however and she had a sneaking suspicion that the real reason Stark Enterprises would suffer if she broke it off with Joffrey was because Cersei would personally see that it would. That was the reason why she went through the motions this past month, endured Joffrey’s wrath, and his joy when they had found out Ned Stark had committed suicide after the shame and the scandal of him allegedly being responsible for fraud. Joffrey had even gone so far as to show her the crime scene photos, holding her head in place as she squirmed against his nails.

She had wanted to push him in front of a bus that day, after it happened. But Clegane’s hand twisted her around and handed her a tissue for her tears, grey eyes seeing the intent in her actions. But he didn’t say anything to Joffrey when they got into their car, and for that Sansa was glad. 

“Come on Sansa, let’s dance.” Joffrey pulled her to the center of the ballroom where evening gowns were being swept around the dance floor, and pulled her flush against his body. 

“Joff, this isn’t the place for grinding.” She struggled a bit against his arm around her waist, trying to not make a scene. When she saw dark clouds cover his eyes, she added, “Think of the pictures. Your mother would be furious if we are anything but the perfect couple.”

That eased his grip slightly and she could regain a proper distance. They may be engaged, but a gala wasn’t a club. He had to know that as well, but it didn’t mean the sour look on his face went away. “Whatever,” he said eventually, “I’m going to get a drink.”

His departure released the tension wrapped around Sansa’s shoulders and she made her way back to their table, where the remnants of the overpriced dinner were being cleared away. Grabbing a champagne from a passing server, she sat down and scanned the scene of tuxes and gowns, the official armour of liars. 

She remained there, surrounded by glasses that used to contain a fizzling gold liquid when Joffrey found her again. “You look pathetic.” She could only manage a tight smile before he announced he was going out. 

“Okay.” She responded, causing an exasperated look on his face.

“You’re not going to come?” 

“I don’t think…” She started to give an excuse before he cut her off with a short, “Whatever.”

He started to walk away when he turned to her again. “Get the Hound to drive you home. I want you to get there there… Safely.” The last word added with his crooked, cruel smile and Sansa knew the real reason. If she wasn’t going to go out with him, she was to go home. She tried her best to look dejected and sad, but inwardly she smiled to herself. Staying home really wasn’t a punishment as he apparently believed, but she would do whatever she could to keep him thinking that it was. She was beginning to learn the trick. 

Winding her way through the tables, she searched for the large frame of Joffrey’s primary bodyguard. Sansa always thought that a bodyguard was a bit much, but it was more of Cersei’s idea, to make sure her precious baby stayed safe. It wasn’t like the cost was an issue for them. 

She went outside the main ballroom down the hall to the smoking room, but with no luck. After she looked in the bar, she pulled out her phone and scrolled through the contacts, but apparently she hadn’t had reason get Clegane’s number beforehand.

“Ridiculous.” She muttered to herself and continued to search and it was another ten minutes before he appear from out of nowhere.

“Sandor!” She yelled, perhaps a bit too loudly. But the champagne made it hard to care. She waved and he started towards her direction. 

“Hey, Joffrey wanted you to drive me home.” She said when he was close enough to hear. 

“Yeah. He called.” 

“Speaking of that,” she pulled her phone out, “can you please put your number in?”

“What?” He responded.

“Your number. Your cell phone. I think that it’s probably one I should have.”

He allowed her to shove the phone into his hands, but still regarded her quizzically. 

“Just put it in for goodness sake.”

He smirked, “Well, since you asked like that.”

Her brow furrowed before a red blush replaced her confusion as she turned her head and bit her lip. She hadn’t meant it to come out like that and silently scolded herself for not thinking before she spoke. 

When he finished, she took her phone and checked to make sure he had entered it in. But he didn't wait, and instead turned and walked away, leaving her to catch up. She moved her legs as quickly as her tight gown and heels would allow, but she doubted she could match his large strides, even in regular clothing and an unintoxicated state. 

Outside, she saw he had pulled the car around, and the back door opened for her. “Thanks.” She said, without receiving a response as he shut the door and circled the vehicle to climb into the driver’s seat. They took off without a word and Sansa leaned her head against the cold glass, watching the city lights blur by. 

As they left the downtown area, Sansa saw a Dunkin’ Donuts in the distance. “Wait! Go there.” She pointed. 

Sandor’s head turned to look at her incredulously. “What?” He rasped. 

“There!” Sansa exclaimed as she unbuckled her seatbelt and clamoured into the front seat as best as she could manage him her floor length gown. 

“Get back in your seat, girl!” Sandor yelled, but Sansa was already in the front, head first. 

“I want donuts!” She shouted back, the warmth of the alcohol replacing the fear she had once for Sandor’s scarred face. But she couldn’t see it from this side, and he looked like a normal man, albeit much larger than most as he was cramped even in the large suburban. 

He looked at her like she was nuts as she struggled to right herself in the seat and had to lean back to avoid the stilettos that were waving in the air. She pointed again to the Dunkin’ Donuts and he groaned as he moved into the turning lane. 

“Well you don’t have a Tim Horton’s, so what else am I supposed to do for comfort food?” He still didn’t say anything, so she buckled her seatbelt. “Oh, and where’s the nearest liquor store?”

“You don’t need anymore, little bird.”

She let out an unladylike snort, “You can hardly lecture me on that, sir.” She looked at him with challenge in her eyes. “Anyone who deals with the Lannisters…” Her hands shot up to cover her mouth before her drunken mind could blurt out anything more damaging. 

He could only laugh, “Don’t worry, girl, I won’t tell. I haven’t yet.” He gave her a sideways glance as they pulled into the drive thru. “What do you want?”

She lowered her fingers enough to uncover her mouth partly. “A box. I don’t care what kind.”

She tore into the box as soon as he passed them to her, groaning in pleasure as the sweet, doughy goodness melted on her tongue. 

“I’m still not taking you to a liquor store.” Sandor repeated, glancing over as she tucked a lock of red hair that had slipped out of her bun behind her ear. 

“Fine. I think I have a bottle of wine or something at home.” They drove in silence the rest of the way, Sansa revelling in her treat.

Sandor followed her up to her apartment when they arrived, Sansa insisting she didn’t need help as she tripped up the stairs, donuts in one hand, purse in the other. “I swear it wasn’t this bad at the gala, really.” Sandor only grunted in reply. 

When she grabbed the bottle of wine that was tucked into the back cupboard above her fridge, she had to swat Sandor’s hand away. She reminded him that she was home now, and really couldn’t do too much damage. “I won’t even text Joff.” She turned her phone off as if to make a point. “Why aren’t you with him anyway?” She asked as she took a sip of the fruity white wine. 

“He has Boros and Trant for when he wanted to get fucked up on cocaine.” He shifted onto his other foot. 

“So what, Cersei moved you on to day shift?” 

“Let’s just say that the boy I was hired to guard ten years ago is into different things now.”

“But is he really that different?” Sansa took another long sip.

“No.”

Sansa shook her head, “How the fuck did I miss that?” She took her glass and the bottle and started towards her bedroom. “Night Sandor.”

“You better lock up, little bird.” He called after her, but she was already on her bed, not bothering to take of her dress or the makeup that covered her arm. 

“Spare key’s in the drawer there, do it yourself.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I just wanted to add a little context for their world. In this story, King's Landing is similar to New York in style and placement in the United States. On the other hand, Winterfell is in the Rocky Mountains in British Columbia, Canada, something like the Banff Springs Hotel for reference (though perhaps not quite as large!).
> 
> You can also listen to my inspiration for this chapter here: 
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=I-WPlGeqheY&index=1&list=PLUEbEVTSnJ5CxfziE9dze-NtvySPJtTrF

Sansa awoke to her temples pulsing and the stiff bodice of her dress digging into her side. Groaning, she rolled over and tried to bring moisture back to her dry mouth. 

Little by little, she forced her eyes open to see her room had filled with late morning light. “Oh Sansa, this is not your finest moment,” she muttered out loud as she forced herself out of bed. The rich fabric of her dress was now creased and saturated with the scent of alcohol that seemed to be leaking from her pores. Slowly she unzipped her constricting gown and untangled it from around her legs. As it fell to the floor, she could finally breath for the first time since putting it in on and she wondered how she managed to fall asleep in it. The pounding in her head answered that question. 

In nothing but her underwear, she sluggishly made her way to the kitchen to find the donuts she remembered convincing the Hound to get. Although, demanded would be a more appropriate term. For the second time that morning, she inwardly scolded herself as she recalled her graceless dive into the front seat. Finding her phone, she chugged a glass of water with an ibuprofen as she waited for it turn back on. The sudden ingestion seemed to offend her stomach and she ran to her sink, struggling to keep the liquid down. After a moment, the bout of nausea passed and she saw her phone was lighting up with notifications. Bracing herself, she picked it up to see a stream of messages from her mother and a voicemail at the top. She decided to listen to the voicemail first to get the worst out of the way.

“Sansa, this is your mother, but after that speech last night I don’t know if I can even call myself that. How could you shame your father’s memory? You betrayed your family and especially Robb. Did you even think about what it would do to him? You know he is having a hard time with the Lannisters…”

Her mother’s voice bore on, but Sansa had stopped listening as she tried to keep her tears from spilling over. She was heartbroken, humiliated, and furious. Her mother didn’t get it. Robb didn’t get it. They were far away from the Lannisters and King’s Landing. They didn’t the kind of power they wielded. Try as Robb may, he did not have sway or experience to bring their company back, not to mention the number of shares that were necessary. If they wanted to keep any part of the beloved business, they had to play the game, play nice, and not declare war. The Lannisters had won, the rest was damage control. Sansa knew very well that if they pushed more, there would be no Starks left in Stark Enterprises, herself included. 

Hanging up, she let her phone drop back down on the counter not wanting to listen to another minute of her mother’s biting words. She grabbed a donut and tore a chunk out, breathing heavily. Mentally, she packaged up her mother’s disappointment and put a tight lid on the emotions. She couldn’t process them now and she would have to do it later when she had the strength. Right now, she just needed a hot shower. 

Before she could allow herself the luxury, she decided to check if the door was locked. It was. There were now two people with keys to her apartment and Sansa thought that if she could only take away one, it would be from her fiancé. 

Finishing her sweet breakfast, she found her way to the bathroom and turned the water on in her shower. Once it was an adequate temperature she stepped in. It made her gasp, but she could feel it begin to wash the shame from her skin with the sticky sweat of an alcohol induced sleep. This wasn’t the first time she had gone through this routine since her father died and she laughed at the thought. It was a bitter sound. She didn’t want to know what he’d say if he could see her now. Or her mother. But there was still a part of her that wanted her family to see and to know, so she could get it all out in the open. Unfortunately, it wasn’t an option. She had done what she had to the previous evening, she was sure of it. 

Toweling herself off, she made her way again to where her phone lay abandoned and sent a text to Margaery, asking her if she wanted to grab Sunday brunch. She didn’t think she could stay by herself today with nothing but her thoughts. Almost immediately, she got a reply.

Yes! The Orchid?

Sansa smiled and sent a reply.

Okay, can you pick me up at 11:30?

Of course! See you then xx

Sansa released the breath she didn’t realize she had been holding. She had a distraction now. Scrolling past the texts from her mother, Robb, and Joffrey, she saw another name she hadn’t been expecting. Sandor Clegane. Puzzled, she opened it up. 

I have this key now. I’ll give it back.

Chuckling, she could almost hear the gruff rasp. Words were definitely not his thing. She typed a quick reply.

I’m not too worried, I’ll grab it whenever. :)

After the message was sent, Sansa wondered if the emoji was too much and if he’d think it was weird. But her thoughts were cut short when her phone buzzed.

K.

“Well I guess that’s that,” she murmured and walked back to her closet to put on her favourite pair of leggings and overly large grey sweater. It could probably work as a dress had she been a little more open with showing her skin. But now it wasn’t her self-consciousness that made her reach for her long sleeve options. Instinctively, her fingers touched where there were purple marks blooming like battle scars on her arm. The one on her stomach had faded to a shade of yellow. She should’ve known better than to cry about her father in front of Joffrey, especially when Boros was there. But crying because of her golden-haired fiancé was another matter entirely. It meant she would need another tube of waterproof mascara. 

Finished with her makeup, she glanced at the clock. She had another fifteen minutes until Margaery was going to arrive, twenty if she knew her best friend. Still, Sansa didn’t feel like blow drying her hair and elected to pile it on top of her head instead. Joffrey didn’t like when she did that, preferring her to look pretty and done-up, but she wouldn’t see him today if all went well. 

She made her way to her couch, settling down with her phone to check each notification. The texts from her mother and brother were the same as the voicemail, so she closed those quickly and checked on the one from Joffrey. It was a selfie with him and some girl and Sansa rolled her eyes in response. 

There was once a time that it would’ve bothered her, but now it just made her confused as she fiddled with her diamond ring. If she was honest, she thought it was a hideously gaudy thing. But at the time, she had been swooned with the sparkle and size. Now she just stared at it, wanting to rip it off her finger.

Her phone buzzed and she looked down, expecting to see Margaery’s name appear. But it was Sandor’s again and her stomach stirred strangely. 

Also, good to see that you’re alive. 

She laughed at the comment while the twisting in her abdomen increased. Wondering how she should reply, she typed and erased a few words. 

Oh come on, I’m harder to kill than that! The words stayed in the message box, her thumb hovering over send. As she debated whether or not to send it, a notification appeared at the top of her screen. It was Margaery informing her that she was waiting downstairs. Sansa pressed send before she could think anymore and grabbed her purse to meet her friend. 

“Hey!” Margaery exclaimed when Sansa climbed inside. “I missed you last night, Joff was crazy!”

“Yeah, I wasn’t feeling too well. I had a little too much at the gala, so I just went home.”

“Oh you’re so tame.” Sansa knew Margaery was no stranger to a good party, having been at more than one of her events. 

They chatted about nothing on the way to the café, deciding to meet up to go shopping later in the week. Margaery was adamant that her wardrobe didn’t reflect her personality anymore and she needed to do an overhaul. Sansa laughed at her friend’s version of a problem, thankful for the light distraction. 

They were ordering their extra large latté bowls when Sansa felt her phone buzz and a hot sensation flooded through her body. She didn’t dare look at it. Margaery could read her like a book and she didn’t want her knowing she had texted Joffrey’s bodyguard, nevermind used an emoji in the sentence. Perhaps she was being silly. They were harmless texts and perfectly civil. But she still didn’t look at it until Margaery left to use the bathroom.

Not if you poke your driver with your heels.

Sansa flushed at the memory of her ungraceful dive into the front seat. Donuts had seemed like the utmost importance at that the time.

She quickly sent the flushed face emoji and typed out another reply. 

Next time you’ll know I’m serious. 

She hesitated, wondering why she stated there would be a next time, and send another message in an attempt at damage control.

Canadians eat the most donuts per capita you know. Well, they eat doughnuts, not donuts. 

Just as she sent the message, she wanted to take it back. It was too much. She doesn’t talk to the Hound. But her worries were cut short by Margaery’s return and the in depth conversation about her colour palette. Apparently her signature blue wasn’t going to work anymore and she thought she needed to move into neutral tones. It was all perfectly mindless, and Sansa loved it. But she couldn’t help but be conscious of her phone and its stillness in her lap. 

It wasn’t until they were in the car again when it buzzed, sending her stomach into another frenzy. Sansa felt ridiculous. She made her goodbyes with Margaery as quick as possible and rushed inside her building to check her message. Her excitement was short lived when she saw Bran’s name on the screen and the weight of guilt crept back onto her shoulders.

Hey, can I call you? <3

She made her way up to her apartment before she dialed him.

“Hey Sansa,” Bran answered in a hushed voice. 

“Hey.” There was a long pause, neither of them bothering with the typical ‘How are you’ nonsense. No one was good and there was no use in repeating the empty word. 

“I overheard Mom and Robb last night,” he sounded dejected, like he couldn’t win and Sansa understood all too well. 

“Yeah, I haven’t responded to any of their messages,” she admitted guiltily. “I don’t know what to say anymore.”

“I don’t think you’re a traitor, by the way.” The kindness and love in his voice cracked Sansa’s façade and she felt hot tears fill her eyes.

“Thanks Bran, I don’t think I am either.”

“I mean, you must have a reason why, don’t you?” His voice was filled with hope.

“Yeah. Yeah I do. I just want to do right by you guys, but Mom and Robb what I can.”

“What can’t they see”

She waited a moment, choosing her words. “They’re just not here Bran, they don’t know what it’s like or what they need to do.”

“Do you?”

Sansa’s voice caught as she stifled an involuntary sob. “No, I don’t. But I know more than them.”

“Why can’t you come home? I miss you.” Sansa’s tears spilled over at Bran’s words and she tipped her head back, willing them to go away.

“I just saw you!” She said in her best lighthearted voice.

“That was for the funeral. Why go back?” Bran always cut straight to the point. He asked the one question she couldn’t answer and she forced herself to bite back the truth.

“My fiancé is here, Bran.” She replied and silence ensued. “I’ll come back as soon as things settle here, I promise.”

“I don’t feel right about this, Sansa.” Bran replied, unwilling to swallow her shadowed truths.

“Nothing feels right anymore, that’s to be expected.” She tried to think on the stages of grief she had read about somewhere but came up short. “We just gotta keep on living, right?”

“Yeah. I guess.” There was another long pause. “Mom’s up,” he said quickly. “Love you, sis.”

“Love you too, Branny.” And then he was gone. 

She checked the clock, it was just past one which meant it was ten for them. Her mom never slept in that late. She couldn’t imagine the amount of pain she must be going through and wished there was something she could do to make it better. But the only thing her mom wanted would hurt the whole family in the end. 

Exasperated, Sansa grabbed her computer and tucked herself into bed. She didn’t want to live in her life right now, so she picked one from Netflix instead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We have a different POV coming up next! I wonder who it could be...


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want to listen to my inspiration for this chapter, check out this link:
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0YySkt6--h0&index=1&list=PLUEbEVTSnJ5AUjd4U91WNgHmIT_KzoqJ1

Sandor picked up his phone again and looked at his messages for the third time in the last minute. Even though it had been days since they were sent, he was more bewildered with every passing hour. The little bird had been texting him and it didn’t make any sense. With a grunt, he chucked his phone down on the couch and got up to get another beer. 

Opening it, he wondered if he should text back, but he didn’t know what to say about Canada’s donut consumption. Crossing to his couch in two large steps, he picked up his phone and wrote out a text. 

Oh.

“There, that’ll be the end of it,” he grunted and sat back down on his couch. Turning on the television, he aimlessly scrolled through the channels. He could feel himself watching his phone out of the corner of his eye, waiting for it to light up. Throwing it to the other end of the couch, he willed it to be pushed from his mind so he could focus on the basketball game he had settled on. 

Cracking another beer open, he picked up the remote again to find something more to his liking. Basketball was fun and all, but it was a little tame for Sandor. Flipping through his options, he saw an MMA fight that had potential, but a hockey game between the Vancouver Canucks and the Edmonton Oilers caught his eye. He let it play, the fast action and casual violent providing a suitable background to his consumption of cheap beer. As the night wore on, he found himself checking the distances between Winterfell and the two cities, wondering which team colours the Starks would wear during a game. 

“What the hell?” he shouted at himself and tossed the phone to the ground. He had no reason to care which team the little bird cheered for. That was new territory entirely. Of course he had thought of Joffrey’s redheaded fiancé before because she was hot, and that was it. Sandor Clegane could appreciate good genes, even though he had little experience with getting anyone with them into bed. It wasn’t any good looking girl that decided he would suffice when it was 2 a.m. and they were too drunk to care about his face or demeanour. That was what Sandor Clegane got, and that was what he deserved. 

He couldn’t deny that Sansa Stark was nice to look at. On numerous occasions he had caught himself practically drooling. But that’s where it ended. Texting and wondering about her favourite hockey team was completely out of the question. Turning off the television, he rubbed his eyes and resolved that there would be no more contact than before. But he knew he’d need to slam another drink if he wanted to forget about the texts from the little bird and get any sleep at all.

Finished his beer, he retrieved his phone off the ground and checked the volume. If the little shit decided he needed something in the dead of night, his phone had better be able to wake him. Moving into his bedroom, Sandor forced himself to brush his teeth before collapsing into his bed. His large form hung over the edges, but sleep still claimed him.

In the early morning light, he awoke to a sharp ringing emanating from his phone. Scowling, he glanced at his bedside table where the numbers 5:57 glowed mockingly. Feeling for his phone, he slid the answer button and brought it to his ear.

“What do you want?” he growled. 

“Oh, um. I’m sorry.” The little bird’s melodic voice drifted through his foggy mind.

“What?” he said again, more harshly than he had intended.

“I just… Well, you see…”

“Did you call me for a reason?” He cut her off and mentally mocked himself. Of course she did, she had no other reason to call. 

“You still have that key right?”

“No, I threw it out,” he said, but the sarcasm was seemingly lost on the receiver, who remained silent. “I’m fucking with you. Yeah I have it.”

“Oh good, thank you. I don’t suppose I could get it, please?” Her courtesies never failed. “If it’s not too much of a trouble. I could come to you, if it’s not too far.”

“Quit your chirping, girl. What’s wrong?”

“Um… I lost it on my run.”

Sandor snorted. “I’ll bring it.”

“You don’t have to. I can run over.”

“Too far. Are you home?”

“Yeah, I am.”

“I’ll see you in twenty.” Sandor hung up before she could stream thank-yous into his ear. There would be enough of that when he got there. Getting up, he contemplated having a shower, knowing that he didn’t smell the greatest. In the end, he settled for deodorant and a quick brush of his teeth. Grabbing a fresh shirt, he found himself looking in the mirror, checking his appearance. But he stopped once he realized why. It was just Sansa and he wasn’t even on duty. There was no reason for him to care what he looked like.

It was twenty-five minutes later when he parked his SUV in front of her building. Climbing out, he elected to take the stairs up to her floor, his large strides moving quicker than the elevator would. When he entered the hallway, he saw the little bird sitting on the floor in front of her door. Her head snapped up from her phone when the door to the staircase opened and he emerged.

She jumped up quickly and smiled. “Morning!”

Sandor grunted in reply and dug his hand in his pocket to retrieve her key. He tried to not notice her black bra that was clearly noticeable under her sheer white workout top. 

“I usually stick my key in the band of my yoga pants, but these ones don’t have a pocket for it. So I just stuck it in my bra instead, which was a mistake.” Sansa demonstrated by pulling the top of her sports bra away from her body. Sandor couldn’t help but look over, causing her to blush and turn her head away. 

Sandor unlocked her door and pushed it open, stepping back to let her through. “You want this back?” He held up the key.

“Um… Let me check first.” Sansa bent down to rummage through the drawer where Sandor had found the key in his hand. Her shirt hung low and Sandor stole a glance. The combination of the sheer fabric and tight pants outlined the shape of her body. He quickly looked away and brought his hand up to rub his eyes, as if to make it more difficult for them to spy. 

“I found another one.” Sansa held up a key. “Can I see the one you have?” She held her hand out and he dropped it in. Holding them together, she announced they were the same and gave it back. He looked at her with a furrowed brow.

“You’ve needed it twice in a week now,” she told him. She pressed the key in his hand and reached up to take her hair down from the ponytail.

“I didn’t really need it this morning,” he said, distracted by the way she shook her hair out with her fingers. She was clearly enjoying the sensation. 

“I tried the super, he wasn’t up. The only other person with a key is Joff and do you really think that would be a good idea.” She motioned towards the clock. 

“Fair enough.” 

“Do you want coffee or something?” She moved around the kitchen peninsula that stood in front of the door and reached into her cupboard. Sandor didn’t move. His mind hadn’t prepared for this eventuality. “Unless you drink tea?” 

“No. No tea.” His words seemed to unfreeze his limbs as Sansa poured water in the coffee maker and he moved to close the door.

“Yeah I didn’t really think it suited you.” She ground the coffee beans, making conversation impossible for a moment. “I hope you like it strong.”

He gave a puzzled look before sitting down at the stools and watched as she piled heaps of grounds into the coffee maker. “You apparently do.”

“You forget that I’ve been a university student.” Sansa pressed the brew button. “We’re notoriously addicted to caffeine.”

Turning to him, they lapsed into silence before she spoke again. “Did I wake you up?” Sandor gave a nod in reply. “Sorry about that.”

“I don’t need your apologies,” he rasped. 

“Right. I’m sorry,” she said again. 

He couldn’t help but muttering, “Buggering Canadians” under his breath. 

Sansa just glanced over at him again before grabbing a frying pan and reaching into her fridge. “Want eggs?”

“What?”

“I’m going to make scrambled eggs and toast, should I double it?” she asked, looking at him. “Or triple?”

“You don’t need to…”

“It’s not about me. Would you eat it?” She stared at him, frying pan held casually in her hand as her elbow rested on her hip. This was a new side to the little bird. 

He grunted an affirmative and she got to work, flitting around the kitchen. They didn’t speak, but Sandor didn’t feel he had to either. When the coffee maker beeped, she poured him a mug. 

“Black?” she asked.

Sandor nodded and took the mug. It was simple and white, but could probably be used as a soup bowl if necessary. He took a sip, letting the bitter and smooth taste wash over his mouth, the opposites complementing and enhancing one another. Sansa had poured cream into hers and he saw her shake cinnamon into it as well before turning to the food again.

He watched her work, wondering how on earth he got himself into this situation. It didn’t add up to him. But the little bird knew her courtesies if nothing else and how he didn’t like being thanked outright. She had found that out the hard way during a protest half a year before. 

It had started out peaceful, but there were always those who would use it as a cover to smash some window or set something on fire. It had gotten out of control after the sun set, their inhibitions setting along with it. The chanting crowd had surrounded them as they came out of the restaurant. Sandor had gotten Joffrey to the car, but Sansa was left behind. When Sandor had went back to get her, the golden jerk had drove off without them, leaving Sansa and Sandor there among shattering windows. 

Seeing how the little bird was dressed and obviously out of place, someone had used the chaos as an opportunity to try and grab her purse. Sandor was fairly sure that he had dislocated the man’s shoulder when reclaiming the item. A look of horror had crossed Sansa’s face, but Sandor had scooped her up and ran away from the mob, using his large frame as a bulldozer. 

Sansa had come to him a few days after, telling him how brave he had been and how much she was thankful for that. He had laughed in her face and fed her some line about how he only wanted to give the destructive twats a roughing up like they deserved. She had been taken aback by the harness in his voice and he took the opportunity to remind her how the world really worked. He could still see the tears welling up in her eyes as she stormed away. 

He compared his memory of her to the woman front of him now. It was obvious that there was a change. At least she had learned not to sing empty praises his direction. He was much happier with the plate of food she slid across the peninsula. It was scrambled eggs and toast, with tomato and avocado sliced on separate plates in front of him. He grunted his thanks and dug in. 

Out of the corner of his eye he watched Sansa sit down at the end of the peninsula and daintily spread the avocado on her toast before she piled on the tomatoes and eggs. Curious, he followed her lead and took a slice of avocado and tomato and put it on his own. It was good, but it didn’t replace bacon or sausage that this breakfast was sorely missing. 

“Sorry I don’t have any breakfast meat,” she said, almost reading his mind.

“It’s fine. It’s food and it’s edible.” He took another bite as if to prove his point. 

“Well, I don’t think you can be surprised that I’m not a great chef.” Sandor just gave her a sideways glance and she continued on, “Actually, I had to Google how to hard boil an egg when I first got this place.” A faint blush creeped up her face. 

Sandor didn’t say anything and cleaned up the last bit of egg with the rest of his toast. He was barely finished when Sansa stood up and cleared his plate into the sink. “I could’ve done that,” he said, but Sansa just shrugged so he said a quick, “Thanks.”

“I thought you didn’t believe in being thankful,” she replied, without looking at him. But she could see his head snap up. 

They remained in silence as Sansa finished her breakfast and Sandor suddenly stood and said, “I’m going to go.” The awkward feeling was unfamiliar to him. Sansa just nodded and he left without another word. 

Walking down the hallways, he looked back at Sansa’s door. He needed some confirmation that this was Sansa’s building and his strange breakfast was not an odd hallucination. The reality persisted, leaving Sandor more confused than before. He had determined why the little bird would call him to help, but making him coffee and food was another thing entirely. He had done so much to keep his guard up and had been angry enough to frighten her. Being friendly with one of Joffrey’s playthings could never be a good idea. Besides, someone had to teach her that people were mean, although he had a notion that it wasn’t him that had taught her that lesson. 

He drove back home listening to the silence and watched the early morning city come to life. As he walked through his front door, he felt his phone buzz and he pulled it out of his pocket. 

I hope the rest of your day is better than the start. 

Rubbing the back of his neck he typed a reply, frustrated with the small keys that were clearly not for hands like his.

I’ve had worse.

When he had sent the text, he took off his shirt and flung it on the floor as he stepped in the shower. The initial rush of cold water made him swear, but he was never patient enough to wait. He made it a quick process, but he would never admit it was because he wanted to get back to his phone.

I’m not responsible if you get food poisoning.

Just saying. ;)

The two messages greeted his dripping body, rewarding him for his hasty toweling. He stood, a little pool of water forming at his feet, staring at the winking face on the screen. That was new. Resolutely, he put his phone down and got dressed in his customary black suit. Joffrey was at the office today and the Lannisters insisted on keeping up appearances, even with their hired muscle. Today was especially important, given the Joffrey’s uncle, Stannis, had an appointment with the board first thing. Sometimes Sandor forgot that Joffrey was technically a Baratheon.

He heard his phone sound out a notification and he found himself hoping that Sansa had texted. But he remembered he hadn’t replied yet, not knowing how to respond. It wasn’t a familiar situation for Sandor. Evidently his typical fear tactics hadn’t worked to keep the little bird at bay. 

As he finished with his tie, he made his way back to his phone to see that the notification had just been one of those recurring emails. He didn’t know why he got them, just that they came with an annoying ferocity. He switched back to look at the messages from Sansa again, a cold sweat creeping over his body, betraying his mind. Try as he might he couldn’t leave the messages unanswered.

I’m not worried little bird. You can feed me anytime.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all! Sorry for the delay, someone close passed and my life required some sorting out. But I'm so happy to bring you this chapter. Let me know what you think! <3
> 
> Here's my inspiration for the chapter: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLUEbEVTSnJ5AUlu_dlhVSvSNMu4mAQW0T

Sansa finished cleaning up the dishes that served as the only evidence of her meal with the Hound. She mused at the odd turn of events her morning had taken. How strange that she had willingly invited the man she had once thought so terrifying into her home, and convinced him to stay for breakfast. Even though the breakfast was completely innocent, Sansa couldn't help but blush as her mind wandered to what it usually means when a man stays over for breakfast. But the blood quickly drained from her face as her thoughts turned towards what Joffrey would do if he found out. If he knew she didn’t mind the Hound, he would most likely arrange for Boros or Trant to take his place and Sansa didn’t think she’d ever make them a cup of coffee.

Drying the last dish, she admitted that she had actually quite liked Sandor’s company. The idea made her laugh out loud it was so unexpected. He had tried to scare her so many times in the past, tried to make her see that the world was an awful place to people like her. But it wasn’t him who taught her that lesson. Joffrey’s pretty face had concealed his twisted mind and when she finally saw what was behind the glamour it had been too late.

Banishing the memories, Sansa picked up her phone and sent a text to Sandor wishing that the rest of his day was better than his morning. His quick and blunt reply brought a smile to her face. Taking a chance she decided to add a winking face emoji. Perhaps it was a bit much, but the rush it gave her was addicting.

Feeling it was time to wash off the sweat from her run and start her day, Sansa jumped into the shower and let her mind wander through philosophical ideas. If Joffrey’s beauty hid the monster he really was, what would it mean for those who appeared as a monster on the outside? Her mind immediately went to Sandor, and how even though his scars were horrendous, he still was able to show her his own form of kindness. But then what did that say about his brother, Gregor, who acted just awful as he looked. Sansa could still remember when he had kept away a man that had gotten a little too close to Cersei. Pleasure and rage on his twisted animalistic face as he threw the poor man into the air like a rag doll. And while Sansa had been shocked at Gregor's actions, it had only made Cersei smug to have such power on her side. Sansa shook her head and decided that there was no way to know someone’s character for sure. The old adage, ‘Never judge a book by its cover’ seemed to hold more merit that she had ever thought.

Stepping out of the shower, Sansa quickly checked her phone only to be disappointed to see no new response from her strange breakfast companion. She had hoped to hear from him again before she had to go into the lioness's den later today. Cersei had contacted her the day before, asking her to come into the office to discuss something. It was all for show. Cersei never really asked you, or wanted to discuss anything. She would rather tell you how things would be. All the while, Sansa would nod and smile and say all the things they expected. She was just like the perfect little bird the Hound mocked her for being.

But beforehand, Sansa had to look the part of obedient daughter-in-law. She carefully picked out her outfit of a flared midi skirt with a cityscape wrapped around the bottom with a white button up shirt and grey cardigan. She paired it with the pair of grey stilettos she had picked up with Margaery the day before. Looking in the mirror, she scrutinized her appearance as she knew Cersei would. Sansa remembered the one time she had chose to wore an executive style suit as Cersei favours, thinking it would bring her closer to her mother-in-law to be. Sansa had been so wrong. She hadn’t worn anything of the sort since the incident, instead favouring clothes that made her fit in, but also made it clear that she was not in charge as Cersei had presumed she wanted.

Her phone alerted to her to another text and she smiled at the response she received. The thought of feeding him anytime she wanted made her happier than she would care to admit. Feeling feisty, she tapped out a quick response.

But maybe not breakfast? 

That usually would mean you spent the night… 

After sending the message her stomach went into a frenzy and heat spread throughout her body. She had flirted with Joffrey’s bodyguard, one that had terrified her in the not too distant past. But he wasn’t truly as bad as he looked or acted. Bad people had to put in the effort to be nice, their true natures only seen through time and circumstance. Sandor seemed to be the opposite. He spent so much effort acting frightening, but she had seen the kindness he attempted to hide. It came in brief flashes when he thought no one could see. At least it did with her. Looking in the mirror, she put on her lipstick and stared at herself with wild eyes.

Head high and filled with fire, she made her way to the subway that would take her downtown and into the Lannister's lair. Each passing second, she felt the energy she had from her morning fade away as she was brought closer and closer to the place she wished she could leave behind for good. She tried to read one of her books she had on her phone, but kept going back to her messages, hoping to see one from a certain scarred man. But she knew there wasn’t service in the subway tunnels. Biting her lip, she wondered once again if she had pushed too far with Sandor. He served Joffrey after all. But he said he wouldn’t tell when she had spoken too much when she was drunk, and he wouldn’t tell now either. At least that’s what she hoped.

Climbing the stairs to the concrete jungle that awaited her, she kept her phone in hand, waiting for it to regain service. She was not let down when it buzzed half way up the stairs and she opened it quickly. 

Are you saying that’s an option? 

Sansa took a sharp breath and clutched her phone to her chest. She didn’t know the answer to his question and that’s what frightened and excited her. Their conversation was officially on the border of innocent and improper, just waiting for her to tip it over the edge or pull it back. Except, Sansa didn’t want to pull anything back.

She shook her head at the thought as she entered the lobby of the skyscraper and waited for the elevator. Once inside and on her way to the highest floor, she tried to keep a straight face despite the ideas racing through her head. There was no way she was considering having an affair behind Joffrey’s back. Just thinking of what Joffrey would do if he found out chilled her to the bone. And yet, ever with the risk the thought of being with Sandor sent a thrill straight through her core. She wasn't used to the strange sensation, not when the only other option was Joffrey’s wormy lips and wiry hands.

The elevator dinged as the doors opened and she reluctantly broke out of her thoughts to make her way to Cersei’s office. Sansa spoke briefly with Cersei’s assistant, Lancel, who told her that she was currently in another appointment. Sansa sat down at the one of the white leather chairs outside of Cersei’s office and opened up her messages again. After another rush from seeing the message from Sandor, Sansa guiltily closed it and opened Joffrey’s name instead. After a moment of thinking, she sent the sweetest text she could muster.

Hey honey! I’m downtown at the office to meet your mom. Can I bring you lunch later? xoxo

Sansa sighed as she looked down at the stream of messages from her fiancé. She couldn’t say if she had been in love with him, or rather the idea he portrayed. When he decided to be sweet or loving, the gestures were always perfect. His proposal, for example, had been fit for a movie screen. It had been on the bow of his yacht as the city lights sparkled behind them. Sansa had fallen for it all. The only good thing to come from the fiasco surrounding the business and her father was that it had put wedding planning on hold and allowed Sansa to really consider her relationship with Joffrey. He hadn’t always been so rough. When he first left marks, she had foolishly told herself that he was just stressed and didn’t mean it. But when it had crossed over into their love life she realized how wrong she was. She could still remember the terror she felt the first time his hands had crept around her neck and squeezed during his climax.

Sansa put down her phone and looked around. The hall that lead to Joffrey’s office bustled with people going back and forth, papers or files in hand. She could just see his door from where she was sitting and watched it open as a large, familiar form emerged. The sight of Sandor sent Sansa’s heart pounding. She revelled in her inconspicuous location that allowed her to stare as much as she wanted. She had always been focused on his scars and hadn’t bothered to consider his other strong features. He wore his long hair pushed over his left side and Sansa thought he could probably pull off a man bun if he didn’t want to hide his scars. It would match his neatly trimmed facial hair that faded out to where it couldn’t grow. Sansa started imagining what it would feel to run her fingers through his dark hair and how his beard would feel on her lips.

She jumped when Cersei opened the door and exclaimed, her voice far too sweet, “Sansa!”

“Good morning, Cersei.” Sansa stood and gave her mother-in-law to be a kiss on the cheek before walking into her office. Cersei lingered behind and asked Lancel to join her for lunch after so they could go over her schedule. 

They exchanged the customary pleasantries before Cersei truly began, “I think it’s time we discuss your role here dear, and what needs to happen to clean up your father’s mess.” Cersei sat with her knees crossed, fingers splayed with the pads resting on one another. 

“Yes, I agree.” Sansa knew what to say, “Anything I can do to help bring honour back to this company.” 

“Good, very good.” Cersei relaxed and opened a file on her desk, “Firstly, you need to know about the debt your father acquired. He took this out with his shares in Stark Enterprises as collateral.” Cersei showed Sansa the amount due before she went on, “You see, because he committed suicide, the insurance company will not pay anything to your family and this means the debt needs to be paid or else the shares will revert to Petyr.” 

“Petyr?” Still shocked about the huge sum her father had borrowed, the name only served to cause her more confusion.

“Yes. Your father borrowed the money from Petyr.” Ignoring the questions on Sansa’s face, she pressed on, “Of course this isn’t ideal and your mother and brother seem to be incapable of understanding the situation.” 

“That if Petyr acquires those shares, he’ll own the majority and effectively control Stark Enterprises.” Sansa’s statement made Cersei lean back and regard her carefully.

“Exactly, little dove.” 

“What does this mean for me?” Sansa had shares in Stark Enterprises, just as all the Stark children.

“Just do as I ask and we’ll be able to repay him. You don’t need to worry your pretty little head about the details.” Sansa nodded as Cersei pressed on, “This means that you will be getting an office here.”

“Oh. I didn’t expect that.” Cersei saw through her comment. 

“You won’t be in the day-to-day running of this office of course. But we need a Stark in this office, for appearances.” 

“What will I be doing?” 

“Just come for a few hours a day. Show up for some board meetings, get to know the people who are working here, be nice and reassure them. A lot of employees are quite unsettled given recent events.” 

“Okay, I can do that.” Sansa paused before continuing, “And this will pay my father’s debt?” 

“Yes dear. Then once that’s paid, his shares will be distributed among your family as it should have been.” 

Sansa nodded quietly before thanking Cersei for her time and moving to leave. But Cersei stopped her as she spoke again. 

“And Sansa,” Cersei moved around her desk, “given that our family is being so generous in helping you through this time, it would be very awkward if anything should happen to you and Joffrey.” 

Sansa met Cersei gaze and smiled as warmly as she could manage, “Joffrey is the love of my life and I am thrilled to soon be a part of the family that has helped me so much.” 

“Good.” Cersei gave Sansa a smug smile, “Have Lancel show you to your office.” 

Sansa left, breathing for what felt like the first time since the start of her meeting. Her mind was still processing what had happened when Lancel jumped up to show her to her office. It wasn’t near to Joffrey’s, but tucked away down a hall. It still had a view, but it was modest compared to Cersei’s or Joffrey’s, who had the one Ned used to use. She was left alone then and she started to plan how she was going to set it up. It had a few odd items that would need another home, but she would sort that out soon enough.

She had the space almost cleared when Sandor Clegane appeared at her door. “Hello!” She said brightly, but a smile didn’t break across his face.

“Joffrey’s been looking for you,” he said. 

“Oh! I mustn’t have my ringer on.” Sansa crossed over to where her purse lay, but she felt Sandor’s hand on her waist. 

“You better come quick.” 

The tone of his voice stopped her and she looked at him, hoping he couldn’t feel how her heart fluttered behind her ribs at his proximity, “What did I do?” 

He shook his head, “Your brother.” 

“Right.” She took a breath in, willing it to give her the strength she would need and let Sandor push her gently out of her office. 

She felt his hand leave her side and heard him fall into step a couple paces behind her as she walked down the hall to the corner office where Joffrey would be. When she walked in, he was pacing, his face red and hands clenched with Boros and Trant standing against the wall. She pasted a smile on her face. 

“Hello dear!” She sang, hoping to soothe his anger with sweetness. 

“Don’t give me that shit, you bitch.” His words hit her with an untethered ferocity, “Do you know what your precious brother did? Do you know? Do you?” He was only inches from her face and she could feel the spray as he spit his words out. 

“My brother is silly and should rely on the guidance of your family.” She fought to keep herself rooted and steady, hoping the empty repetitions would help. But they didn’t and he continued on as if she hadn’t spoken. 

“He twisted the other shareholders in the vote and rejected my plan!” He resumed his pacing, “How fucking dare he?” He crossed the room and grabbed Sansa, nails digging into her arms. He shook her as he screamed, “He’s going to pay!” 

Sansa held her breath as the room suddenly grew quiet and an eerily calm expression replaced his rage. With Sansa still in his grasp, he spoke in a low and steady voice, “My mother always said I should never hit a lady.” He shoved her back, “Did your mother say that Boros?”

“No, sir.” Sansa could hear the cruelty the voice. 

“Good. Leave her face though, I like her pretty.” Joffrey’s face twisted into something that resembled a smile. 

Before she had time to process, a fist slammed into Sansa’s stomach and she began to gasp, struggling to regain the air that had just been forced from her lungs. Then her knees gave way as she felt something hit them from behind. Joffrey laughed, “I think she’s a little overdressed don’t you?” 

A hand reached out and grasped her shirt, tearing apart the buttons and exposing her chest. She could hear Joffrey screaming for more and the hand came back, pulling at her bra with such force that the clasps in the back gave out and the item hung loosely.

“Enough.” A voice rasped from behind her and the assault stopped as Sansa crouched over and tried to pull her ruined shirt tight. She saw Joffrey looked unsure, but before he could command another attack, she heard the door open. 

“What is the meaning of this?” Tyrion called from behind and a warm jacket embraced her, “Clegane, get her out of here. I’ll deal with my nephew.” 

Hands wrapped around her shoulders, lifting her to her feet. She was unsteady but Sandor kept her standing and guided her out the door. His scent emanated from his black coat, deep and rich. He guided her back to her little office and shut the door behind them. A sob escaped Sansa, letting out the fear and pain that was bottled up inside. Each time her lungs heaved, she was reminded of the damage to her abdomen.

“How bad is it?” He asked. It sounded more like a growl to Sansa. 

She steadied her breathing and took a mental stock of the damage. It had happened so quickly, the whole ordeal was over within a couple minutes. It still shook her to the core, “Um, my stomach is the worst.” She felt the tender bruise developing under her skin there. She looked down at her buttonless button down that had large tear in the fabric. Her bra hung uselessly on her shoulders, the clasps in the back ripped out.

“My shirt’s beyond saving, it’s just my bra that needs some sort of fastener.” She looked up at Sandor’s face who nodded before stepping out of the office. 

When he was gone, Sansa went over to her purse to look at her phone and saw all the messages from Joffrey. It was no wonder he was angry with her, even if he had used her brother as an excuse. She was always in trouble if she wasn’t at his immediate beck and call. The door opened and Sandor came back in.

“I have paper clips,” he announced. 

“It’ll have to work.” Sansa moved towards him and took off his jacket, “Here.” She held out her hands, but as he offered the paper clips, they trembled violently. She shook her head at him, “I won’t be able to do it.” She turned around and took off her cardigan and her ruined shirt after it. 

“Uh, what are you doing?” Sansa thought he sounded almost nervous. 

“You’re going to have to find a way to get my bra back together. Just enough to leave her without anyone noticing and to get home.” She clutched her useless bra to her chest and organized her breasts back to their proper location. 

She felt him take the end and pull them together and she gasped, “Sorry, there’s just going to be a bruise there.” 

“You don’t need to be saying sorry for that, little bird.” 

She laughed and tears filled her eyes, “I guess you’re right.” He went back to work and she ignored the twinge underneath her skin. When he was done he stepped back and Sansa reached for her cardigan, “The paper clips feel like they worked well.” 

“Yeah. I think I terrified the poor girl when I got them.” He was looking at somewhere in the upper corner of the room as she turned around, buttoning up her cardigan, which had thankfully escaped the damage. 

“I think that’s your speciality.” She gave him the most playful smile that she could manage under the circumstances, “How does it look? Weird? Like I’m missing a shirt?” She looked at him and his eyes roamed over her. The cardigan while buttoned fully, was still lower than she anything she liked to wear.

“It’ll do,” he determined, “Better than my jacket.” 

“I didn’t mind your jacket,” she admitted. 

“I mean, less conspicuous.” 

“Oh, yes. Fair point.” She grabbed her purse and stuffed in her ruined shirt. Exiting the office, Sandor lead them to the stairs instead of the elevators to avoid additional unwanted attention. The rumour mill at the office was probably already spreading tales like wildfire and keeping these types of situations under wrap were always high on Cersei’s priority list. Sandor only took them down a few floors before exiting again to wait for the elevators outside of hostile territory. He pressed the basement button and Sansa gave him a look. 

“I’ll drive you home,” he answered the question that was on her mind. 

“Thanks,” she replied. 

“You’re welcome.” Sansa was surprised how he accepted her gratitude. 

They remained in silence as he helped her into the car and they left the parkade. Sansa curled herself up onto the seat and wrapped her arms around her knees. It was after a few minutes of driving when he spoke again. 

“Are you hungry?” He gave her a sideways glance. She looked at him for a moment before nodding her head and he continued speaking, “I can get you take out or something, you don’t have to go in anywhere.”

“Thanks, I know a Chinese restaurant I like. I’ll call now.” She unlocked her phone to place the  
order, “What do you want?” She turned to him. 

“I don’t need anything, little bird.” 

“Are we going to go through this again?” She gave him a smirk and he relented. 

After calling and placing her order, she was informed that it would be another twenty minutes. It would just over that time to get out of the downtown area, despite it not being rush hour. Sansa looked at the clock and was amazed that it was before noon. 

She turned to Sandor again, “It feels like it should be nearer to midnight, not midday.” 

Sandor chuckled and looked over at her. She could almost see a sort of empathy in his grey eyes. They rode again in silence and Sansa watched everyone pass by, wondering how their day was going and if any would guess at the nightmare she was living. She opened her phone to scroll through Facebook and then her messages, pausing at the one from Sandor. She looked resolutely out the window as her face was engulfed in red and wondered if it was going through his mind as well. The question hung unanswered between then, but Sansa still didn’t know what to say. She didn’t know if the events of the morning made her more or less likely to say yes. But that was the real question. Saying ‘no’ didn’t factor into Sansa’s decision. 

Sansa’s musing were cut short when Sandor asked about the location of the Chinese restaurant. She answered briefly before looking at him again, contemplating her feelings on this giant of a man. It wasn’t some childish crush like she once had on Margaery’s brother, with his pretty hair, or any other infatuation with whatever boy was a famous singer at that time. The person sitting in the driver’s seat was a man, and she was legitimately contemplating taking him into her bed. She hadn’t even slept with anyone but Joffrey.

Thinking of her fiancé made her blood curl with a sort of fury she had never felt before. The broken shards of their relationship were already far past recovering. She could not love or forgive him for the way he had behaved countless times. He was a monster, that much was evident. She wanted to break it off, to run back home, but Cersei had made herself clear today. Sansa knew there must be another aspect to the game they were playing, but she hadn’t figured it out yet.

“Like what you see, little bird?” His rough voice bringing her back from her thoughts. It was  
clear he expected his comment to frightened her, but her gaze remained steadfast, despite  
her hammering heart.

“Yes actually.” The words came out with more confidence than she felt and Sandor didn’t say anything else and stayed quiet as he picked up their order and walked with her up to her apartment. 

“Twice in one day, it’s a record,” Sansa chirped as she opened the door a let him in. He carried their food and set it on the counter. “I’m going to go change.”

Sansa went into her room and unbuttoned her grey cardigan. She attempted ease her bra over her shoulders, but Sandor had fastened it too tightly. Sighing, she picked up her cardigan and held it to her front before walking out of her bedroom. “Can you undo your handiwork, please?” She said as she turned around in front of him.

He grunted before she felt his warm hands on her back, easing the paperclips from their unintended use. The gentle sensation made her shiver and she apologized for being cold, hiding her truth. When he was finished she changed into something comfortable, foregoing any bra and instead choosing an oversized hoodie to conceal the shape of her breasts. Sandor was unpacking their food when she walked out of her room.

“I think I’m going to sit at the couch for this one.” She grabbed a pair of chopsticks and Sandor scooped up their food and followed along, setting it down on her ottoman. She sat down a little too hard, wincing and Sandor noticed, muttering something about ‘little fuckers’ under his breath. 

Sansa had only eaten a few mouthfuls when he got up again. She watched him rummage around in her kitchen, leaving him to fend for himself. In the end, he brought them both water and her a bag of frozen peas and an ibuprofen. 

“Thanks,” she said quietly as she placed the bag of peas to her stomach. As they ate she considered her recent thoughts about the man sitting in her living room. This morning with Joffrey had the opposite effect than intended. Instead of beating her into submission and keeping her in line, she wanted to lash out more than ever. 

After some time, Sansa spoke up, breaking their comfortable silence. “I didn’t get to reply to your last text.” She tried to focus on her meal and to keep her exterior calm. 

“Oh?” He didn’t look up from his own meal, but Sansa could see out of the corner of her eye that he wasn’t eating anything either. 

“I think that it could be…an option that is.” Her voice sounded faint through the pulsing in her ears. She willed the red away from her face as she forced herself to look up. Sandor’s grey eyes regarded with a hint of suspicion. 

“You better watch out what you say, little bird. You might regret something.” 

Sansa huffed and stood, collected their garbage. “You’ll have to stop trying to convince me that you’re big and scary.” With that comment, Sandor stood to his full height, looming over her. She looked up at him, “You won’t hurt me.” 

He leaned down close and for a moment she thought he meant to kiss her, “No, little bird, I  
won’t hurt you.” 

She breathed in raggedly for a moment before he took the garbage from her hand and strode into the kitchen, leaving her to regain her composure. 

“I’m not done with my shift,” he announced with what she hoped was regret.

“If he heads for a cliff, don’t stop him.” She heard him chuckle at the comment. After a pause, she continued, “You can always text.” Her voice trailed off. 

He leaned back against the counter and crossed his arms, “About that…” he started and Sansa felt her insecurities rise, “Joffrey sometimes looks in your phone.” He gave her a guilty glance. 

“And you only thought to tell me now that you’re in there?” She crossed her arm to match him,  
trying to keep the smile from her face.

He uncrossed his and rested a palm on the counter before leaning towards her, “You didn’t  
have anything to hide before.” She could see a faint smile playing at the edge of his lips as he  
collected his jacket and strode out the door.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! Sorry for the delay, I've been moving and renovating, so my world has been upside down! I know I said I would get it up this weekend and I didn't lie I swear. It's Canadian Thanksgiving this weekend, so technically I still have an hour left!
> 
> If you want to hear my inspiration, I made a playlist here: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLUEbEVTSnJ5BvR7NR44xebgDiz6_Kciei
> 
> Thank you so much for all your support, you will not be disappointed by this chapter I promise.

It wasn't until the weekend that Sansa had gathered enough courage to call her mother. She was sitting on the couch in her sweats, the number dialed with her finger over the call button. She had pressed it once already, but ended the call before it could ring. With a deep breath, she hit call again and brought the phone up to her ear. Saying a silent prayer, she hoped her mother wouldn’t pick up. But she wasn’t that lucky.

“Hello, Sansa.” her mother’s voice was short, as if her jaw was clenched.

“Hi, Mom.” Sansa took another gulp of air. “How are you?” She hated the empty words, but she knew her manners.

“I am fine.” Her mother’s stiff tone told Sansa that she still wasn’t forgiven. Catelyn Stark was strong and could hold her ground when she felt she had been wronged.

“Do you have a moment to talk?” Catelyn was quiet for a moment and Sansa heard only her own heart pulsing in her throat. 

“That depends on what you want to talk about,” Catelyn finally replied.

“Dad,” Sansa whispered and she heard her mother take a sharp breath in, “I really wish I could see you.”

“You made it very clear that your loyalties are with your new family.” The sharpness of her mother’s words wounded her.

“It’s not like that.” Sansa stood as she pleaded with her mother. 

“Then pray, do tell me how it is.” She could tell her mother was losing control of her anger, something that was rare. 

“I know about the debt,” Sansa spat the words out and regretted it immediately. She didn’t want to fight with her mother, but she didn’t want to be beaten down from every front.

“We have everything under control.” 

“Under control?” Sansa exclaimed as she started to pace. “How? Winterfell isn’t even worth that much. So please tell me how you are going to fix this?" 

 

“Petyr won’t collect yet, he’s one of my oldest friends,” her mother was speaking as if Sansa was ten years old again. “We have some savings, our shares, your father’s insurance—”

“Insurance? Are you serious?” Sansa veins pulsed with the heat of her anger. Her mother couldn’t be that ignorant. “Are you forgetting the circumstance in which he died? The insurance company won't cover a cent and you know it.”

“Sansa, don’t take that tone—” her mother started, but Sansa wasn’t finished.

“No I will, because you and Robb don’t get it. You can’t hold Petyr off forever. He could collect at any time and when he does, nothing we have will cover it.” Sansa paused, breathing heavily. “The only hope we have of not living in the streets is through Stark Enterprises and you and Robb seem to be set on getting yourself kicked out.”

“It’s not our fault the Lannisters—”

“You’re right, it’s not your fault they won. Wake up, it may as well be called Lannister Enterprises. At least I’m doing something that keeps one of us in their favour.”

“That’s low, Sansa. I thought I raised you better.” 

“You did. You also raised me to put family first. So I am. And even if it’s not how you like, it’s better than fighting with them.”

“And what would you have us do? Robb can’t just back down from being CEO. That’s his right.”

“Just play nice! It gets a little awkward for me here.” Sansa’s voice was shrill and desperate, awkwardness didn’t begin to cover it.

“Play nice? Play nice with the people that drove your father to what he did?” Catelyn’s words were laced with venom. 

“It’s better than being left with nothing at all. They control so much already.” Sansa struggled to level her tone. “Think of Bran.”

“Of course I think of Bran!” her mother cried.

“No, I just mean about all his physio and surgeries. He’s been doing so good. We can’t do any of that if we’re bankrupt.” She could hear her mother breathe erratically. “I just think his physical health is more important than Robb’s pride.”

“Sansa, you go too far.”

“No, mom. It’s just the truth. Please, be honest with yourself. Robb won’t talk to me, but he’ll talk to you.”

“It won’t go over well. He’s not happy with you.” 

Sansa’s fingers massaged her temples, “I know. Really, I do. I just need you guys to trust me.” She sat down again on the couch, wishing she could go back to bed. “I’m not a little girl anymore. I’ve had to deal with this too.”

“I don’t like it, but I know.” Her mother let out a long sigh, “What a mess isn’t it, honey?”

“Yeah.” Sansa felt emotion well up inside her at her mother’s endearment. It seemed that she had weathered this storm at least. “That doesn’t even cover half of it.” She let a breath out to steady herself, but it came out ragged. 

“Oh Sansa, I know how you’re feeling. You should be here with us.” 

The kindness only made her tears come faster and Sansa wrapped her arms around her knees, “I want to be there too.”

“Can you come home for a bit? I can tell you’re stressed.” Sansa remained quiet, waiting for her moment of weakness to pass. “Or maybe I’ll come there. The lone wolf dies, but the pack survives.”

Sansa smiled at one of her family’s favourite sayings and she thought of Sandor Clegane. “Maybe I should get a dog.”

“You know you can’t have pets in your building, or else you’d have Lady there with you.” Sansa was glad her mother didn’t understand the meaning and let her wander to lighter topics. But the dark cloud of tension was ever-present over their conversation. After a few failed attempts at learning more about Sansa’s wedding plans, Catelyn resigned and said her goodbyes. 

Sansa was glad they were on better terms, but there was still no ignoring the past events. Robb would be much harder to convince, but she hoped her mother could do it without coming to the capital. Her mother had already talked about coming down to see her a few times, but Sansa knew that wasn’t an option. She couldn’t imagine their reaction if they knew what was happening with not only their company, but between her and Joffrey as well. The last thing she wanted was for Robb to go to jail for murdering Joffrey, although she couldn’t say she hadn’t been tempted to do it herself.

Standing up, Sansa moved into her bedroom to get ready. It was her beloved fiance’s birthday today and she had to give him his gift before his party. They were backstage passes to a concert for an artist she was sure he liked. She had even run the idea past Margaery, who thought it was a great idea. At any rate, Joffrey was never opposed to gifts, most of the time.

 

\---

 

Sandor knocked on Sansa’s door; the sound was heavy. From inside, he heard a clang before there was a thump on the other side. A moment later, it swung open to reveal a swaying red-head. 

“Sandor!” Sansa held her door and rested her head against it. “So good to see you again.” She reached out to grab his tie, but his hand grasped hers and she giggled in response. It seemed that she was more than ready for Joffrey’s party.

“Come in! Yes, please.” She turned and he followed, closing the door behind him. “Listen to me, ‘Chirp! Chirp! Chirp!” Sansa fell into a fit of giggles once more.

“Little bird.” His voice was a warning. “Been pre-drinking a bit then?” He picked up the nearly half empty bottle and regarded her with steady eyes, “How many have you had so far?”

“I don’t know!” She threw up her hands, to emphasize her point, “I just have no desire to be sober for any of this shit.” 

He crossed his arms and looked at her sternly, but he couldn’t help but understand exactly how she was feeling. She reached for the vodka bottle, but he snatched it away. Pouting, she started to rummage through the cupboard above her fridge, reaching for a bottle of wine. But Sandor thwarted her efforts as he took her wrists and turned her around.

“Where were you today?” Her question caught him off guard.

“What?”

“I took Joffrey’s present over to him earlier today,” she began, “which, by the way, he hated. How was I supposed to know him and the artist got into a Twitter fight last night?” She rambled on, hands struggling against his as they tried to illustrate her point, “Anyway, you weren’t there.”

“I had to run home.” Sandor was unaccustomed to anyone asking his whereabouts anymore. Realizing he still had her wrists clasped in his hands, he let them fall back to her side. He looked at her then, wondering what happened during his absence. Her short blue sequined dress was long sleeved and she had black nylons on, neither of which pointed to her coming out unscathed, “We should go.”

“Right, I have to celebrate his birthday.” She spat out the words, walking towards the door in front of him. Quietly she added, “I would rather celebrate his deathday.” 

Sandor spun her around, hands on her shoulders and looked her firmly in the eye, “You cannot say things like that. It doesn't matter if you think them. It doesn't matter if you feel them. You cannot speak them. Do you understand?”

She nodded at him through her drunken haze and Sandor hoped she could behave herself for the rest of the night. 

“I'll be good, ‘chirp chirp’,” she said in a grave tone, eyes wide. 

Sandor muttered to himself, before asking her where her purse was and pushing her out the door. He knew the evening would be a challenge if the little bird was in this state already, but Joffrey would be expecting her at his party and she had to at least make an appearance. 

The drive to the Lannister house was uneventful, with the little bird sulking in the back seat, staring out the window. He pulled up to the front door and helped her out. Under his breath he warned her to be nice, grey eyes piercing into blue. She sullenly nodded her head before plastering on a smile and walking through the door. 

Sandor had to park the car further away, so he wouldn’t be blocked in, but he walked back as quickly as he could without running. He hoped she hadn’t gotten herself into a mess. He could understand her anger, but it wasn’t going to help her survival.

Back in the house, he moved around the outside of the room, listening to Joffrey complain about Sansa and wondered where she was. Sandor found her in the kitchen, draining a glass of something, staring out the window over the sink. As he moved next to her, she glanced up. 

“Do I have to?” She knew her place at Joffrey’s parties. She was no more than a decoration to him, a piece of art to be displayed for everyone to see. 

Sandor could only nod and she began to pour another cocktail, “I don’t think that’s wise.” The statement’s meaning wasn’t lost on Sansa.

“It’s just to hold. I won’t drink it, I swear.” Turning to him, she looked him in the eyes, “You can watch me the whole time.” There was a small smile pulling at the edge of her lips.

Sandor’s breath froze as he looked down at her. There was no way he could participate in the game she was playing, but someone should’ve told his mouth that, “You know I do.”

With that, Sansa glided away to the couch where Joffrey was sitting, Sandor following in her wake.

The party progressed as the clock neared one in the morning. It was still early for most here and Sandor watched Joffrey survey the crowd from his position, like a king would regard his subjects. Sansa was keeping her place beside him, smiling prettily and laughing at his jokes. He saw he steal a few sips from her drink, but it had been hours since she poured it. 

It was going well until someone fell and smashed the glass coffee table in front of Joffrey, who jumped up in rage. 

“You idiot! Are you that drunk?” The poor guy was babbling his apologies, but Joffrey wasn’t finished with him, “No, evidently you aren’t,” he said sarcastically, “Trant, please get him a drink.”

For a moment, the tensioned eased, but Boros grabbed the drunk’s arms while Trant shoved a bottle of liquor into his mouth. He began sputtering as the liquid overflowed, his face growing more red by the second. 

“You can’t!” Sansa exclaimed, her hands instantly flying to covered her mouth just as soon as the words came out.

“What?” Joffrey’s eyes narrowed on her. 

“I just mean—” Obviously flailing, Sandor cut in before she could make things worse. 

“Everyone’s watching, just laugh it off.” Sandor’s eyes were steady on Joffrey. 

After a moment, Joffrey’s laughter was heard through the room. “Oh come on, it’s my birthday, let’s all drink!” He raised his glass and finished the contents, everyone around cheered and followed suit. 

Joffrey announced he was going into the den and stepped past the drunk man that had broken his table without another glance. Sansa moved to follow, but Sandor’s strong hand gripped her arm. 

“You’re coming with me,” he rasped. Leading her to a bathroom, he pushed her in. “Stay here until I come back for you, do you understand?”

She could only nod and he heard the door lock. Spinning around, he went to find Joffrey and make an excuse for the little bird. It only took a few moments before he was back where he had left her. 

“You’re puking and I’m taking you home so you don’t embarrass him further, got it?” His eyes were level with hers and she nodded again, “Good, let’s go.”

Leading her through the crowd and out the front door, the fresh air greeted them. Beside him, he heard her whisper, “It’s like I can breathe again. Like the very air around him is contaminated.” 

Sandor kept walked, not sure if he was meant to hear the comment. “Did you bring a jacket?” he asked. The air had a sharp edge that was expected in November. It wasn’t freezing yet, but it was bound to happen soon. 

“No.” She looked over at him, “It’s not bad though. When it’s this temperature in the springtime everyone starts walking around in shorts again.”

Sandor only shook his head, but Sansa liked talking about Winterfell. 

“How far away did you park?” she asked.

“Up the next street. There are more than a few people at that house and I didn’t want to get trapped in.” He checked the street for cars before putting his hand on Sansa’s back and motioning for her to cross. When he took his arm away, she used the opportunity to sneak her own into the crook of his elbow.

He looked down she smiled sweetly up at him, “Just in case I lose my balance.” Smirking, he tore his eyes from hers, “Thank you by the way,” she said. 

“No worries.” He wanted to scold her for her carelessness, but couldn’t bring himself to be angry at her right now, “Just don’t do it again, okay?” 

“Of course. You might not be there to save me.” He snorted at her comment and she responded with a laugh that drifted around the streetlights.

Arriving at his SUV, Sandor opened the back door for her. But she walked around him and opened the front for herself. Instead of climbing in, she sat on the seat with her feet outside of the cab, “You’re really quite large, you know?”

Sandor just raised his eyebrows, “Yes, I’m aware of that.” 

“Is it proportional?” The blush creeping up on her face betrayed her, but she kept her eyes on his. She didn’t seem drunk now, but he didn’t think her sense of propriety would ever have let her make that comment without alcohol. 

Sandor’s unburnt edge of his mouth started to turn up despite his best efforts, “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“Oh whatever.” Sansa waved her hand, as if she commonly asked men the question, “You know, I bet I could be taller than you right now.” To prove her point she stood on the running board of the vehicle, the combination of its height and her heels brought her over Sandor’s head. 

“See!” she exclaimed, laughing. 

Sansa’s usual grace had left her and her heels made her wobble perilously. Her foot slipped and she grabbed the door for balance, but Sandor’s arms were already around her waist. “Come down, little bird. You won’t fly tonight.”

He eased her down from her perch so she was resting once more on the front seat. His arms remained steadfast and his face hovered inches from her own. Sansa’s eyes flicked down to his lips and without giving him a second to think, closed the gap between them. Sandor’s breath hitched as his body betrayed him. There was no world in which he could keep his lips from moving against Sansa’s. It didn’t matter how much his brain was screaming at him, he couldn’t deny that he wanted this.

When he pulled back, Sansa’s fingers were tangled in his hair, “Don’t stop,” her voice was almost a whimper. 

“This is a bad idea, little bird,” he rasped, deeper than normal. Looking down the street, he made sure they were still alone. There would be no way to explain the way their bodies were pressed together or how her legs had wrapped themselves around his hips.

“You’re wrong.” She turned his head to meet her eyes, “This is the best idea I’ve ever had.” She pulled herself up to kiss his neck and was rewarded by the way his body melted under her touch.

He leaned down to her again, kissing her squarely on the mouth as his hands moved up to cup her face. He moved from there, leaving a trail of kisses on her neck and up to her ear, feeling her shiver in response. 

“We have to go now,” he breathed into her ear and she only pulled him closer. But he extracted himself from her embrace and took a step back before pausing to look at her. 

Shaking his head, he moved around the vehicle and climbed into the driver’s side. Sansa closed her door and buckled her seatbelt as he started the car. Pulling away, he started the drive back to her apartment. 

“Well I’d say that turned the evening around,” she said finally. He could see her look at him from the corner of his eye. 

“Yeah, that was interesting.” Sandor gripped the steering wheel tighter, as if he could control the situation as well, “I’m sure you’ll get over it soon enough.”

She made an unladylike snort, “Hardly. Especially not now that I know you can kiss like that.” 

He looked over at her for a second before focusing again on the road. But they stopped at a red light and he couldn’t use the pretence of careful driving anymore. He leaned his head back before turning to her again, blue eyes regarded him, “Careful now, you might get more than you bargain for.” 

“That what I hope.” A mischievous smile had crept onto her face. 

They started moving again before Sandor spoke, “Well not tonight.” He could see her begin to pout and he couldn't help but add, “Not while you’re drunk.” 

He heard her sigh and remain silent. When he looked over a few minutes later, she was resting with her head against the window, eyes closed. They remained shut until Sandor pulled up in front of her building and put his hand on her arm. She looked up, eyes still partly shut, “Are we here?”

“Yeah,” he whispered and got out of the vehicle. He moved around to her side and opened the door slowly. Sansa climbed out, teetering on her heels. 

“Thanks for the ride, hope we can do it again sometime.” She stood facing him and moved to touch his torso. The touch broke through the little resolve he had built and he leaned down to kiss her again. She gasped lightly, but her lips molded to his. 

“Walk me up?” she asked after a moment.

Her blue eyes looked at him and he nodded, acutely aware of how he couldn’t have declined if he wished it. Not that he did. He decided he would see her there, nothing more. But as the elevator ascended they found themselves entangled once more, Sansa pressed against the wall.

When the doors opened and the elevator sounded their arrival, they forced themselves to separate once more as they walked towards Sansa’s flat. Barely making it through the door, Sansa pulled Sandor to her again. 

“Take me to bed,” she whispered through their kisses. 

“No,” Sandor replied as he trailed down her neck, “I don’t want you to be drunk. Not you.”

Sansa took Sandor’s head and brought it to face her, “Just come to the bed, I won’t force you to do anything ungallant.”

Sandor laughed at the remark, “I’m already behaving poorly by doing this.”

“I would disagree." Sansa kissed him firmly. 

He gave in once more, letting her hands travel over his broad frame. She took a step back and he matched her movement, not breaking their kiss. But when she began to lead him towards her bedroom, he pushed her away and held her at arm’s length.

“Goodnight, little bird.”

 

\---

 

Sansa rolled over in bed, awaking again to the dull ache of a hangover. It was getting old, fast. As her subconscious faded away and rational thoughts began to form in her head, memories of the night before flooded back. Slowly, a smile began to creep over her face. She leaned over to find her phone and typed out a text.

Sorry about last night. Next time I seduce you, I won’t be drunk. Promise. 

She sent it with a pair of lips before erasing all evidence of the fire that had begun to burn fiercely inside her.


End file.
